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Wuxia (literally meaning “martial arts and chivalry”) is a genre that focuses on the exploits of martial arts in ancient China. They tend to be philosophical as well as action-packed, rooted in centuries-old tales of wandering swordsmen and noble warriors. Often, the heroes possess superhuman skills, shrugging off gravity as if it were a mere suggestion.
The genre has been around for a very long time, but came to global attention in the early 1970s, before experiencing a resurgence in the 2000s after the success of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. Wuxia movies span a range of styles and tones, meaning there’s a deep pool of stories to dive into. These are the very best Wuxia movies ever made, ranked based on their overall quality, standing, impact, and legacy.
10
‘Once Upon a Time in China’ (1991)
“It’s not the weapon that makes the hero. It’s the man who wields it.” This banger was directed by Tsui Hark, a huge figure in Hong Kong cinema (he wrote and produced John Woo classics like The Killer and A Better Tomorrow). With Once Upon a Time in China, Tsui revitalized the wuxia genre for a new generation. The movie stars Jet Li as real-life folk hero Wong Fei-hung, a physician and martial artist who defends China’s dignity against colonial exploitation in the late 19th century. His tale combines action, nationalism, modernity, and myth into one grand tapestry.
The dazzling choreography by Yuen Woo-ping fuses traditional kung fu with operatic spectacle. Every movement is as symbolic as it is physical. It helps that there’s such a magnetic star at the helm. Here, Li shows off his physical skills while also radiating emotional strength. In his hands, Fei-hung is both warrior and philosopher, a man who fights not for vengeance but for identity.
9
‘The Assassin’ (2015)
“I was taught to eliminate evil without hesitation. Yet the human heart is not so easily silenced.” Hou Hsiao-hsien’s The Assassin is wuxia reduced to its essence: meditative, painterly, and transcendent. Set in 9th-century China, it follows Nie Yinniang (Shu Qi), a killer torn between duty and emotion. This tension comes to a head when she is assigned to kill her cousin, a military governor. Where most martial arts films rely on speed, Hou uses stillness. It’s defined by long silences, diffused light, and sudden, graceful bursts of violence that vanish as quickly as they begin. Every frame looks like an ink painting come alive.
The deliberate pacing frustrates action-hungry viewers but rewards patience with rare beauty. Few wuxia movies are this thoughtful, even spiritual. Here, Hou transforms combat into contemplation, using landscape, wind, and fabric as narrative forces. As a result, The Assassin stands apart from most wuxia films, yet honors their soul: the inner war between righteousness and restraint.
8
‘Dragon Inn’ (1967)
“The world is full of injustice — you can only meet it with your sword.” Dragon Inn is the movie that arguably defined modern wuxia. A story of loyalty and survival set in a desolate outpost, it follows exiled warriors who unite against imperial assassins. What seems like a simple tale becomes an intricate dance of deception, timing, and honor. The desert inn becomes a stage, and every corridor hides a duel of ideology as much as blades.
Director King Hu builds tension masterfully throughout, giving us stretches of silence punctuated by sudden, balletic violence. Fundamentally, this is a movie about dignity under duress, a theme that resonated. Indeed, Dragon Inn exerted a considerable influence on the martial arts boom of the 1970s and later inspired everyone from Tsui Hark to Zhang Yimou. While dated and a little rough around the edges, it’s the wellspring from which nearly every later masterpiece flows.
7
‘The Blade’ (1995)
“A sword has no mercy. Only the hand that holds it decides.” Tsui Hark’s The Blade is the anti-wuxia: gritty, violent, and emotionally raw. It’s a spiritual reimagining of the old classic One-Armed Swordsman, but one that trades poetic choreography for savage realism. The plot revolves around Ding-on (Vincent Zhao), a blacksmith who loses his arm and seeks revenge, but finds only madness and futility. The handheld camerawork, frenetic editing, and grimy textures make the film feel more like a fever dream than a fable.
It’s wuxia through the lens of disillusionment, where ideals of honor collapse into blood and dust. Tsui strips away the genre’s romanticism to reveal the pain beneath heroism. It suggests that redemption is often just self-destruction disguised. While this approach was divisive on release, The Blade has grown in stature as one of the boldest reinventions of wuxia ever made. Brutal, beautiful, and memorable.
6
‘Ashes of Time’ (1994)
“People forget things if they have no reason to remember.” Ashes of Time is Wong Kar-wai’s enigmatic, dreamlike interpretation of wuxia, a film that treats memory, longing, and identity as dueling swords. Loosely connected to the Eagle Shooting Heroes saga, it focuses on a desert-bound swordsman (Leslie Cheung) haunted by lost love and existential drift. The fights are abstract, more emotional than physical, reflecting the turmoil inside each warrior. In other words, this film is wuxia as art cinema: elliptical, poetic, and drenched in melancholy.
The visuals are terrific throughout, as one would expect from Wong. Frequent collaborator Christopher Doyle’s cinematography is astonishing, all blurred motion, golden light, and sandstorms that seem to swallow the characters whole. This hypnotic tone, coupled with the fractured narrative structure, creates an evocative, immersive vibe. Taken together, it all adds up to one of the most introspective wuxia movies ever, and one of the most beautiful.
5
‘Come Drink with Me’ (1966)
“A hero’s life is lonely — there is no wine strong enough to wash away the dust.” Before Dragon Inn, King Hu revolutionized martial arts cinema with Come Drink with Me. This one centers on Golden Swallow (Cheng Pei-pei), a swordswoman sent to rescue a kidnapped official, only to uncover deeper political intrigue. She’s one of the most intriguing heroines of the era: calm, intelligent, and utterly lethal, while still being believable. Indeed, Cheng’s performance redefined the female warrior archetype, influencing generations of wuxia and kung fu protagonists to follow.
On the storytelling side, Hu’s direction combines balletic action with Peking Opera precision, framing combat as a ritual of movement and rhythm. The film’s mix of color, choreography, and sound design was years ahead of its time. Technically brilliant, Come Drink With Me is a triumph of style, spirit, and cultural evolution, frequently ranked among the greatest wuxia films of all time.
4
‘A Touch of Zen’ (1971)
“The power of the sword is nothing next to the power of the mind.” Another masterpiece of mysticism and martial arts, A Touch of Zen is King Hu’s crowning achievement, a three-hour odyssey that transcends genre. It begins as a ghost story, evolves into a political thriller, and ends as a spiritual allegory. The narrative follows a scholar who becomes entangled with a fugitive noblewoman pursued by corrupt forces. Initially, they are simply fighting for survival, but eventually their quest becomes one of enlightenment.
The aesthetics reflect this approach. Here, Hu’s cinematography transforms nature into philosophy, giving us bamboo forests, golden light, and mist-shrouded valleys that feel like extensions of the soul. The action sequences, particularly the bamboo forest duel, are legendary, inspiring decades of filmmakers. (Some of these images appear to have influenced the training sequences in Kill Bill, for instance.) Not for nothing, A Touch of Zen won the Technical Grand Prize at Cannes in 1975, confirming wuxia’s global artistic legitimacy.
3
‘House of Flying Daggers’ (2004)
“Love is the most dangerous weapon of all.” Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon‘s success sparked a surge in wuxia releases, and House of Flying Daggers is one of the standouts. Set during the Tang Dynasty, it follows two soldiers (played by Takeshi Kaneshiro and Andy Lau) who pursue a mysterious rebel (Zhang Ziyi) through forests and snowfields, only for love to blur every allegiance.
It was directed by the great Zhang Yimou, and the visuals are typically rapturous. Autumn leaves swirl like confetti, bamboo groves shimmer in green serenity, and snow bleeds red in the finale. Every color and every gesture is an emotion. Through all, Yimou uses wuxia not to glorify war, but to dissect the tragedy of love and duty colliding. The film’s final act, a duel of heartbreak in the snow, ranks among the genre’s most haunting images. House of Flying Daggers is a tragic ballet, sacrificing action for emotional impact and proving that in wuxia, the sharpest weapon is often love itself.
2
‘Hero’ (2002)
“The sword is not to kill, but to give life.” House of Flying Daggers is terrific, but Hero is Yimou’s magnum opus. It’s wuxia as pure cinematic poetry, boasting the genre’s finest use of color. Set during China’s Warring States period, it tells of a nameless assassin (Jet Li) recounting his encounters with rival warriors before the emperor. Each retelling shifts in color, tone, and truth, creating a tapestry of perspective.
The film’s visual design is staggering, with different hues associated with different emotions and ideas: red for passion, blue for sorrow, white for peace. Through it all, Christopher Doyle’s cinematography makes every duel feel like a dance between ideals. Thematically, Hero explores the cost of unity, the meaning of sacrifice, and the beauty of restraint. This mix of technical artistry and philosophical depth won the film international acclaim and commercial success. It was the first Chinese-language movie to top the American box office, grossing $177m against a budget of just $31m.
1
‘Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon’ (2000)
“The things we touch have no permanence. Only by letting go can we possess what is real.” On release, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon was a phenomenon. Blending breathtaking martial arts with profound emotion, it became the highest-grossing foreign-language film in U.S. history and won four Oscars. Set in Qing Dynasty China, the movie tells the story of two warriors (Chow Yun-fat and Michelle Yeoh) whose unspoken love collides with the ambitions of a rebellious thief (Zhang Ziyi).
Here, Ang Lee fuses East and West, myth and realism, turning wuxia into universal art. The fight scenes, particularly the bamboo forest duel, are gravity-defying yet intimate, reflecting emotional states rather than just physical conflict. The melancholy tone, the sense of love restrained by duty, gives the movie a quiet power unmatched by any wuxia film since. For all these reasons, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon is the genre’s Platonic ideal.
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